Construction Literary Magazine

Fall 2020

Left Behind

Left Behind
Photograph via Flickr by Alan Stanton

my dog paws at my notebook, whines,
tries to pick up the pen lying on the floor
with his mouth. I imagine
he’s trying to write something, a letter
to the people who used to live
in this house. I say, no, bad dog,
you’re my dog now. I say,
those people moved away
and left you behind.

I watch nature documentaries where dogs,
lost at rest stops, escape from hotel rooms,
find their own way back home
from hundreds of miles away,
but that doesn’t apply here. I say no,
bad dog, sit still and listen
you old mutt.
you’re stuck with me.

you’re a part of this house.